


Rendezvous

by kanracake



Series: Steve and Bucky: Skype Buddies (SB:SB) [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Excuse me I’m a Noob, Flashbacks, Reunions, Steve Is a Good Bro, bucky out on the farm, is this fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanracake/pseuds/kanracake
Summary: Steve visits Bucky in Wakanda, they hang out on the farm, and Bucky has a flashback.





	Rendezvous

Bucky'd never considered himself the type to farm. Sure, he liked the outdoors and adored animals, but it's not like he'd ever gardened before in Brooklyn. The most experience he'd had with greenery was that one cactus Steve had gotten him from a carnival.

"Even you can't kill a succulent." He’d joked. The thing died after two weeks. And Bucky had actually tried to take care of it! In hindsight, he had probably overwatered the poor thing.

At least in Wakanda he didn't have to worry about accidentally killing the agriculture thanks to the kids constantly watching him. Shuri had introduced them as his 'little helpers' but a more accurate description was 'little supervisors'. They were a very happy, energetic bunch of kids that seemed to find vast entertainment in playing teacher to his bumbling, perpetually confused self. They had only been told that he was a soldier who had been wounded in action so they always framed his tasks as 'missions'. He'd be given a chance to figure things out himself first just to see if he could, and probably so the kids could laugh at his clumsy attempts. He didn't mind, though. It was usually justified and there wasn't any malicious intent — they were curious kids and likely just wanted to see how a stranger, who didn't have a clue about what he was doing, would go about the task at hand.

There had been a lot of confusion and minor injuries at first but he was starting to get the hang of this farm therapy. In his youth he'd used a shovel or two as impromptu self-defense weapons when Steve picked a fight with one too many bullies; during the war he'd used them to bury fallen comrades. Now he was standing in a field he’d tilled himself, looking like a chunkier Jesus.

Cloven hooves trampled through the grass on his right and a warm body sidled up beside him. He had a pretty solid sense of who it was and was already smiling when the calf nuzzled its wet nose into his palm, demanding attention. He obliged with a fond chuckle and scratched the top of its brown furry head,

“Hey there girl, taking advantage of the wounded again?”

The calf, who he’d started calling Blue because of her one blue eye — names weren’t his greatest talent— responded with a more eager nuzzle. Cows were nice. They were big and sturdy so he didn’t have to worry much about accidentally hurting them. Chickens were funny but the little devils just didn’t stay still and their skeletons were so fragile it kind of scared him. Cows were relaxed and soothing. Less like the group of kids now running toward him from the hill,

“White Wolf! White Wolf!” He wasn’t sure why the kids called him that but it sounded cool. They seemed excited about something today and grabbed his arm before pulling him back towards the hill, in the direction of the main compound. They spoke perfect English but often preferred to keep him confused and today was no exception. He tried asking in both English and terribly broken Xhosa, which he had slowly begun picking up, but the kids just laughed and said Shuri had asked for him.

Maybe Shuri had another prototype arm for him to test out? He was basically her pet project now She knew he had an interest in technology and let him wander around her lab whenever he visited. Sometimes she would have him picked up for a day trip around the city where he could admire more of the technology, have some good food, and socialize a bit with people who weren't kids or his healers.

When he did get to the compound, he was immediately ushered to the showers and given a fresh set of clothes. To be fair, the locker rooms here were basically fully-equipped spas and he did make it a point to use them whenever he visited; however, usually he was less rushed and at least had a conversation with Shuri or T'Challa before using more of their resources. This time around, he hadn't seen either before he was whisked away. And he knew he didn't smell that terrible to warrant quarantining — the farm did have a full bathroom. So, less offended and more confused, he enjoyed the deep cleansing and experimented with more of the soaps, conditioners, and lotions. He's only tried half of the collection so far and while partial to the lavender, he was a 'try everything once' kind of guy.

Thirty minutes later he emerged in a thin navy long-sleeve and brown trousers and boots. His hair, dry and fluffy, was left to fall around his shoulders now that the kids weren't around to tie it up for him. Usually they just gave him a tank top so this was another indication of... something. Why did he always have to be the confused one?

“Shuri?” He shuffled into the oddly quiet lab, looking for the genius princess. He came down the curved ramp, “Shuri, is something—” he arrived at the opening of the space under the stairs... and took a single step backwards,

“S-Steve?!”

“Hey Buck!”

The veteran stood like a deer in headlights, eyes fixed on the face of his best friend. They’d been video-calling semi-frequently but this was their first face-to-face meeting since he went under. Caught off-guard and still dopey from his fancy shower, Bucky strode forward and opened his arms for a hug. There was just one second of hesitation, when a small voice in his mind questioned if it was okay for him to act so familiarly, but Steve, being Steve, wasn’t having it. He took two steps forward and then Bucky was wrapped up in the tightest bear hug — funny how Steve was so small in his oldest memories. He slapped his friend’s back with a laugh and squeezed him tight before they pulled away at the same time. Holding each other at arm’s length, they each looked over the other.

Steve’s beard was still growing out, giving him more of a roguish look, but he wasn’t in uniform for once: just an unassuming shirt and jeans completed by a belt and boots. He looked good, not worn-out or injured. His hair was longer and his biceps were bulging from his arms being crossed as he casually leaned against the table.

 _Man, I really need to start training again_ , Bucky made a mental note. He wasn’t exactly out of shape but he wasn’t near his top form either. And if he wanted to be serious about being a rogue Avenger — or whatever Steve was — then he needed to be at his physical and mental best. That was an issue for later, though. At this moment, he needed to navigate the present matter of reuniting with the best friend he had once tried to kill.

"How ya been?" Steve started the dialogue.

"Same old, same old: bagging hay and befriending the livestock... what are you doing here?" Not that he wasn't thrilled, but it's been months and now Steve shows up out of the blue without any announcement? Though a quick glance at Shuri and her barely-restrained grin indicated that it might not have been a surprise to everyone.

“Well, it’s been quiet out in the world and Shuri mentioned you’d been making good progress.” Steve shrugged nonchalantly, raising his palms a little, “Guess I wanted to see for myself. It has been 70 years after all.”

“Don’t suppose we’re going to Coney Island for a date are we?” Bucky couldn’t help teasing but it did pull laughs from both Shuri and Steve.

“Actually, I was hoping to see this farm you’re always going on about.” Bucky waited a second to see if Steve was joking but he seemed completely serious.

“Really? You’re in the most technologically advanced nation in the world and you want to see a farm?”

“I’ve been told I’m a little old-fashioned,” there was that crooked grin he’d been seeing more often in their calls recently, “but come on, Bucky on a farm? Back in Brooklyn you couldn't keep a cactus alive.”

“Well, if you really don’t have anything better to do than watch an old man talk to cows then sure.” Bucky shrugged but sent an inquiring look to Shuri, who was beaming now and shook her head decidedly,

“No, no obligations at all!” She waved them over to a nearby table, “I’ll have someone take you back but first, you have to try this new prototype, Sergeant Barnes.”

“The other one was perfectly functional!”

“Nothing is perfect,” Shuri waggled her finger at him. Steve leaned over to see what was in the case and whistled low and long. The prosthetic was similar to his old one: a smooth construction of shiny unpainted metal. Bucky sighed heavily before going over to sit on the medical table. Steve followed, amused by his friend's uncertain exasperation. No doubt the ex-assassin was flattered by Shuri's attentiveness but also confused about how to respond to the amount of care being invested in him.

"Now remember," Shuri said as she began to mount the arm, "when you come back I want at least two suggestions on how to improve this." Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve,

"I'm gonna have to ask her to put a portable fan or something in this." Steve laughed and cocked his head to the side,

"Well, might not be a bad idea in this heat."

"I want serious suggestions you two!"

 

§

  
Ten minutes after the reunited super soldiers had departed, T’Challa strode into the lab with a questioning expression,

“Shuri, where is Steve Rogers? I told you I had something to discuss with him.”

“Not now, Brother! He needs time with his boyfriend!” Her eyes didn’t stray from the small round device she was working on but her grin was obvious.

“Boyfriend?” T’Challa furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you playing matchmaker again?”

“Oh I hardly need to do anything for this one.” Her grin turned devious.

“Why can they not just be friends?”

“Why can they not be friends and lovers?”

T’Challa sighed and rolled his eyes with mild exasperation. Shuri spared a moment to look up from her work,  
“Not to worry Brother, I am invested in this relationship regardless of what it turns out to be.”

T’Challa smiled fondly at her and laid a hand on her head,

“As am I Sister,” his eyes trailed off to look out the window, “as am I.”

§

  
Steve and Bucky were dropped off at the farm by one of the Doras. The children appeared to be absent, so it was just the two nearly-100 year old veterans left to their own devices. They descended the hill side by side, Bucky vaguely pointing out things with the one arm he had,

"There's the hut, there's the goats, and this..." he couldn't help grinning as a familiar brown calf came trotting up to nuzzle the newcomer, "is Blue."

"Blue?" Steve patted the curious animal nipping at his shirt and snuffling obnoxiously. He scratched the top of her head and she head butted him, managing to offset his balance enough for him to take a step back. He laughed and scratched her cheeks, which she enjoyed very much going by the way she raised her head with half-closed eyes. Steve must have noticed the difference in her eye color when he frowned and moved to look at both sides of her face,

"So that's where you got Blue," he sent a smirk to his friend, "original."

"Hey, making up names was not in my job description." He raised his hands innocently.

“Yeah, never was a talent of yours. We’ll see how you are at playing tour guide though, Old MacDonald.”

“Right this way, sir.” Bucky held out his arm and took a bow, barely holding in his laughter.

Now, Bucky had been having a good run these past few weeks. His old happy memories were less hazy and the nightmares had become less common, and the cloud that had always looked over his conscience seemed to have almost completely disappeared. Steve’s presence now was helping him to relax even more, maybe a little too much as his foot caught onto some tough grass and caused him to stumble forward.

“Buck!” Steve grabbed his elbow from behind and pulled him back up. Bucky blinked, feeling the adrenaline from just that split second of falling. An ex-assassin tripping over his own feet. He laughed at the silliness of the situation and shook his head while reaching up to pat his friend’s shoulder. He used his prosthetic arm since it was closer, and it was just supposed to be a friendly pat. But the motion caused sunlight to catch on the surface of the metal and a blinding glare struck his wrist and raced up to his shoulder like a bullet.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in Wakanda anymore. The sun was gone; the grass, the farm, the warmth— gone. He was in a warehouse: cold, dark, dank... and the man before him was just a target. No, he was an obstacle to the target. The security guard. Bigger, but not stronger. The Winter Soldier could feel the collar bone bend and crack under the unyielding grip of his metal hand. The guard grunted in pain but was determined to fight and tried to twist out of the Soldier’s grip. The Soldier moved faster, his flesh hand coming up to grip the man’s neck. As well-trained as the guard was, he hadn’t been molded by Hydra. The Soldier felt his pulse beneath his fingers and stared directly into the brown eyes that were beginning to show fear. He squeezed harder, remembering that the unconscious Senator was the mission.

“Bucky!”

The Asset frowned. This memory was wrong. The guard hadn’t managed a word before he died.

“Bucky.” The voice played in his head but it wasn’t coming from the guard. The Soldier cocked his head, staring at the man in his hands as brown eyes shifted to blue.

“Buck.”

He blinked, and the dark, dank walls evaporated. The sun, grass, and fresh air enveloped him in a warm embrace and he stumbled back a step, both arms falling limply to his sides. The sudden brightness blurred his vision but when it cleared, he recognized Steve, his best friend Steve, leaning over with on hand on his knee and the other massaging his throat. Bucky blinked, trying to remember the last couple minutes, and he covered his mouth with his flesh hand, eyes wide with horror,

“Oh God — God, Steve, are you...?” He wasn’t sure to ask if he was hurt or okay. Steve waved him down and straightened with that damn smile, like everything was okay,

“I’m fine, Buck. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about — Steve I just tried to kill you!”

“You didn’t try to kill me.” His tone was way too dismissive, like Bucky was a dog that had just nibbled on its owner’s slippers.

“Yes. I did. I,” He gesticulated around his head, “had a flashback. One of the Hydra missions, some Senator. I was fighting his bodyguard and I was killing him — killing you!”

“Buck listen to me,” two heavy hands planted themselves on his shoulders and their eyes met, Steve’s full of certainty, “You didn’t even bruise me. If you were trying, you would have done a lot more damage. You just grabbed me on reflex and I was startled so I choked on my breath.” Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously,

“You’re sure?” Steve rolled his eyes,

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Let me see your shoulder.”

“You’re not gonna let this go are you?”

“No.”

The ex-Avenger stepped back and gripped the collar of his shirt with a sigh, the opening wasn’t large enough for him to reveal that part of his shoulder so with a very exaggerated sigh he pulled the garment off and spread his arms,

“There, happy?” Bucky stepped closer and frowned at the unmarked skin above his collarbone. He looked at Steve’s face to watch his expression as he prodded it. Steve just looked down and grinned in that ‘told you so’ way. Now it was Bucky’s turn to heave a sigh and he let his head fall against his friend’s bare shoulder,

“It felt so real, I could feel his bones breaking in my hand.” He whispered. He felt fingers comb through the long strands of his hair, just above the back of his neck.

“That’s in the past. It wasn’t you then and it isn’t you now.”

“But I did it, and I still remember them.” Steve was quiet for a moment, then,

“I still remember when you fell off the train.” Bucky looked up with a frown. Steve’s lips thinned in a line,

“Comes up sometimes in my dreams. Sometimes I’ll actually catch your hand and haul you up, sometimes I feel your hand slip out of mine — no matter how hard I try to hold on.”

“Steve,” that hurt, to know his friend was still suffering from an outdated memory. He drew a breath and let it go, then wrapped his arms around his friend and squeezed him in a firm hug, “I’m here.”

Strong arms crossed his back, returning the hug,

“I know, and I’m glad you are.”

They kept the embrace for a few seconds, before Bucky smacked his friend on the back,

“Alright, alright that’s enough.” And they pulled away from each other with a laugh.

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the farm, playing with the animals —who all seemed very interested in Steve and Bucky was by no means jealous of how friendly many of them were with the man. When Bucky had first arrived, the animals were so wary of him like he was a wolf or something. Blue was the first one to approach him; she snuggled right up to him on the first day and bumped his hand for a pat. So, there might be some favoritism in the treat portions.

The afternoon was spent with mostly trivial conversation since they already updated each other on major recent events during their video calls: where Steve was currently traveling and what big baddie he’d put away, and how Bucky’s healing was progressing and what mischief he’d gotten into on the farm. Sometimes a memory would surface in his dreams or pop up randomly in his thoughts and he’d hold onto them to ask Steve; clarify that it was real. He wasn’t trying to become the Bucky of the past, exactly, but he did want to recover his memories and know who that Bucky had been. Steve seemed to understand this, and he really appreciated the man’s composure. It must have hurt to lose your best friend during a mission, then have said best friend come back as a villain 70 years later with no memory of you.

Steve missed the old Bucky he’d grown up with, but he was also grateful just to have Bucky alive, physically well, and almost mentally sound. The ex-assassin did get flashes of memories and violent urges that were more muscle memory than anything, but he hadn’t seriously injured anyone and they were becoming much less frequent. He was healing, though, and in time he wanted to fight alongside Steve again. Sometimes when he thought of the man, there was a nostalgic warmth that accompanied the memory, like a lingering part of the old Bucky. It was some mixture of fondness, faith, and pride.

“So how’s the kid and the bird?”

“Which bird?” Steve smirked. They were resting by the pond with a platter of fresh fruits; Steve had elected to keep his shirt off due to the heat, and Bucky had joined in after they worked up a sweat trying to round up some chickens that had wandered too far from their hutch. There was a simple pleasure in lying back on the grass with the sun up above and birdsong in their ears.

"The one that actually flies — is he still upset about his car?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't try catching a ride with him anytime soon."

"It's been months."

"You should know not to mess with a man's car."

"I'll be sure to apologize. Where are they anyhow?"

"Well, T'Challa may have granted you sanctuary and revealed a bit of Wakanda's true nature to the world, but he still wants this city's location under wraps."

"You left them in Europe?"

"London, currently. Maybe some day they'll come visit."

"I'm sure Sam would be thrilled to see my face." Bucky drawled sarcastically.

§

Shuri welcomed them back to the lab with a blinding smile,

"So, how was the arm?"

"Great, but any way you can make it a different color? Darker, less shiny?"

**Author's Note:**

> Mildly edited version of one of my FanFiction.Net works


End file.
